I Don't Know How to Say This...

... so I'm just going to say it.

On December 2, 2007, I saw a man die. Or, rather, about to die.

I witnessed a murder.

I was driving on a road I drive every day... a road I still have to drive every day, and I remember. Every time.

On Monday, I was called to testify.

I was never served with a subpoena, (it was lost), but Monday, a detective came to my house and asked me to stand before a judge and raise my right hand, do I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth so help me God?

I do.

I HONESTLY thought no one would care what I saw, it was dark, I was driving, I didn't really get a good look, I should have done something, what if I could have stopped him, why did I say anything, why didn't I say anything sooner, why didn't I tell anyone about this, why am I TELLING YOU THIS NOW?

I don't know.

This is one of the hardest things I have ever been through, and I shoved it deep into my heart and hid it from almost everyone.

I didn't know what to say. I'm sorry if you didn't know.

But now you do.

Today, Larry Rothwell was convicted of second-degree murder.

I'm sorry it happened, I'm sorry he was drinking that day, and I'm damn sure the friends and family of Joey Shirley are sorry too.

Whatever It Takes

Whatever you think of John Piper, (and I still love you no matter what you think of John Piper), this is BIG.

He's doing Whatever It Takes.

What would you give up if your life was drastically off course?

Where Is My Mind?

So Tell Me...

WHAT IS THE LONGEST YOU'VE EVER STAYED INSIDE YOUR HOUSE?

Three Things Thursday: Accident Library

Once upon a time, I lived in a place called Accident, Maryland.

Yes, Accident. Yes, it really looks like this.

Here are three things about the Accident Library.

1. Signing in to the computer list, I saw the name on the line above mine. A guy had just signed in with my husband's name. Well, his name is not so unusual... no big deal. But then I noticed his wife's name... IT WAS THE SAME AS MINE!

The whole town had exactly four people. Either our identities had been stolen for library computer usage, or the universe was trying to give me a conversation starter. I went with B.

So, YES, I TALKED TO COMPLETE STRANGERS. Don't pass out.

I talked to the husband first, just to make sure this wasn't a very elaborate, unfunny hidden camera thing, and then I went out to the parking lot and met his wife. TheOtherMe.

I could hear them say to themselves, (She's CRRAAAAZZZY), but after a few minutes of conversation, I won them over. Of course.

They were very nice. The universe gave us friends! We invited the friends over for dinner.

The next day, the friends showed up. Unannounced.

Which is fine you know whatever we need to lighten up and we need friends because every body is the new kid in town right? Right?

Then they came over again. And again. And again. And again? Yes, again. Every. Single. Day.

... Not to be ungracious... but for many reasons... we just didn't click. Turns out *I* was not the crazy one. (OK... that may have been a little ungracious.)

We actually started hiding from them. HIDING. From nice people, that just wanted to be friends, hiding in our very own house, because they came over everysinglestinkingday.

I'm a little ashamed of that, and am a little worried that you are judging me... but not so much BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T THERE AND DIDN'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO ALL THE CRAZY.

Sometimes the universe gives you friends. Sometimes you should not talk to strangers.

2. Once, in the Accident Library, I found something. I found an ARC (Advance Reader Copies, a limited, special printing of books in paperback form to send out for review and publicity) of Rick Bragg's All Over But the Shoutin'.

It took me a couple of days to figure out what an ARC was... (Why are there typos? Why are these page numbers wonky?), but I ... I felt like I had discovered something slightly amazing.

Sitting in my tiny-almost-Amish-library, I held, in my very own hands, a piece of the publishing puzzle. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I wanted a book of my own words that had typos and wonky page numbers.

Oh, how I adored that book. The mystery! (Why is it here?) The story! (Sigh, the small town Alabama boy who makes it to the New York Times.) The writer! (Rick Bragg. I could love you. I could fix you. Pick me! Ohhhh wait... that wouldn't work out... nevamind.)

3. Mayberry may be small, but it's bigger than Accident. Counting blessings. Sorta.

Weeping...

Created, Creators

"Quince" Makoto Fujimura

1. Today, I am teaching high schoolers (scholars) about art. Specifically:

TEST Everything.
Hold on to the GOOD.
AVOID every kind of evil.
1 Thessalonians 5:21-22.

I LOVE the arts. I majored in one, minored in another. The arts are pretty much all I think about. Well, that, and laundry. This is my world, but I have a hard time putting artsy thoughts into words, sometimes.

I want to swoon, dance around the room, make pretty faces just to get my point across. I don't know how to say what I want to say.

This is insanely frustrating for a writer. I don't like being at a loss for words.

Anyway, the point of the lesson is that we shouldn't AVOID art, we should TEST it. I think that is a very mature thing to ask of a person.

It's a big responsibility. Testing is much more than lying on the couch, zoning out in front of the (beloved) television.

Testing involves KNOWING God, KNOWING art. It's a lot of work. It's a lot to ask of a kid in high school.

A big part of testing is KNOWING yourself... knowing where your hang ups are... knowing what will hurt you...

It's hard to differentiate between being wise as to what to avoid, and being scared.

Confession: I shouldn't have watched Revolutionary Road. You're weakness may not be depressing dramas about struggling marriages. You know what yours is. I KNOW some things are not going to benefit me, not going to get me to think, not going to teach me about art or the state of the world... some things only hurt. ("Kill and destroy," indeed.)

I feel like a hypocrite teaching about this sort of thing, after spending the day listening to Eminem... but Eminem is not my weakness. It's a tough thing to teach this to someone(s) when I am still slogging through it.

I've been thinking a lot about this over the past few years, especially after reading and listening to Makoto Fujimura. He is not at a loss for words.

Three Things Thursday: Fashion Edition

If you have ever seen me out in the wild, perhaps you know that the use of the word, "fashion," by me is said with irony... wistfulness... eternal springing hope.

1. This is a Betsy Johnson Sky Bloom Dress.

I'm starting a collection, if you'd like to contribute to the, "make this total stranger on the Internet insanely happy fund."

Because, really? WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU GOT TO SPEND YOUR MONEY ON??

Feed your kids? Girl, please. IT'S BETSY JOHNSON!!!

2. This is Caitlin Phillips's Etsy shop. Check out this clutch, (she makes purses, too) MADE OUT OF A BOOK! If you have a favorite book that is falling apart, she will make it into fashion. Loves.

If you are always carrying a book anyway... Yes? Yes.

3. This picture, at She's Still Got It, makes me laugh. Every. Single. Day.

And today, a P.S., just because I adore you so.

Who's insane enough to post a music video about their daily outfit? This girl.

HAVE A FASHION CONFESSION?

AND/OR

WHAT ARE YOUR THREE THINGS?

One Question...

What are you afraid of?

Three Things Thursday: I Dare You

(http://www.explodingdog.com/title/everyoneisalwayswantingsomething.html)

1. I beat myself up all the time. There is nothing anyone can say to me that is meaner than the things I say to myself. Deep down, I KNOW this is self-obsession at its finest. This is idolatry of the self... only in reverse. Instead of the whole world revolving around my greatness, the whole world revolves around my LACK. My lack of cool, my lack of Audrey-ness, my lack of wisdom, my lack of fun, my lack of freedom.

BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT THIS IS NOT A CRY FOR HELP. YOU DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE COMMENTS ABOUT HOW I AM BELIEVING A LIE. This really is a first real attempt at transparency: at being real / honest / really honest.

I want you to know... that if you are doing this too, to yourself... you are being an idiot and you should stop. How's THAT for grace? I am so tired of hating myself so much. I am so tired of crying all the time. I am so tired of being sad. I am so tired of wondering and wishing and wallowing.

I want to be well. I want to be whole. I want to forgive me like I firmly believe God has forgiven me.

I want this for you too. We are better than this. We are smarter than this. We are much cooler and cuter than we could ever imagine.

2. This. This essay. Go here now. This is Kelly Corrigan. Wow, it is good.

3. I was hanging out in the better-half's band room (he's a band director of middle school wonders), and I was casually reading all the names on the Director's Award as I walked by. As I hit the 90's, I realized I knew every single one of those people on that plaque. Every. Single. One. And I thought the following things, roughly in this order:

A. I've GOT to get out of this town.

B. Well, let's be positive, shall we? Where else would he get a job where I had friends and family around? Where else would I know ANY names on the plaques?

C. It's kinda great that I know all those people, right? I mean... what a full and good and stable life I have!

D. Wait a second... NOT A SINGLE PERSON LIVES IN THIS TOWN ANYMORE? Jenny is a forrester in Nashville... Adam is a grad student at NYU... nobody is still here!!!!

It made me see how much...

I want I want I want I want I WANT. All the time, I want more.

I want my friend's dad to stop dying. I want to get a sentence out without stuttering. I want to talk to my husband without worrying that he'll "get" me. I want a better blog, and a bigger career, an organized brain, a better wardrobe, a cold-free immune system, and to not be so needy all the time. I want to say things without worrying about what people will think. I want to stop thinking about myself all the time. I want to be a writer, without having to write anything. I want to be a runner without having to run anywhere.

I talk a big game about my growth in the contentedness department, but man oh man, sometimes I don't feel it.

My two-year-old daughter, today, had a doll baby and sippy cup in one arm and a purse in the other and said, "BYE, MOM! I'M GOING TO WORK." And I laughed. And then I cried again, because there is nothing scarier that seeing you-in-minature.

THERE. A Confession. THREE BIG HONEST THINGS.

So. I dare you. Tell me something honest. Tell me something real.

Three Things Thursday: Internet Procrastination

I am an expert, EXPERT I SAY, at avoiding work, so I thought I would share some of my genius with you. You are welcome.

Random: I keep reading about how a blog shouldn't be all about, "You," but... you know what? That why I READ blogs. I get to know the writers and want to know what's going on with them. So. If you come here, you'll hear about me. If I go to your blog, I want to hear about you. Rant: over.

1. It's too late to apologize. There are no words. Except this: "No Tea!" This makes me want to teach eighth grade history, just so I can share this with little people. "NO TEA!"


2. Manhattan
I've found a hilariously crazy Craigslist way to live in New York. For FREE. Only, ya know, not.

3. Facebook

Don't use Facebook. For anything.

WHAT ARE YOUR THREE THINGS?

AND.

GOT A BLOG? LEAVE IT IN THE COMMENTS! I'M STARTING THE BLOGROLL FROM SCRATCH AND ONLY HAVE FIVE. WHO ARE YOU? LEMME KNOW!

OHNOES!

My Blog List evaporated.

If you've got a blog, and want me to share you, leave a comment with your interwebs destination.

ALSO! What blogs do you read everyday?

You're Doing It Wrong!

I spent last semester teaching grammar to my college freshman.

I didn't do it on purpose. I had a new textbook, it was all grammar, I followed the rules and grammar is what they got.

In my first week of graduate school (FIRST WEEK), I learned that teaching straight grammar is completely ineffective (it just doesn't sink in somehow), and I just wasted a semester for those poor students.

Which is... nice to know, right? (Yes. That's a fragment. When you teach the rules, you are allowed to break them. Shut it.)

Hence, my first big paper is going to be a literature review of all the grammar studies so I can avoid wasting another semester.

Hey. Even the teacher's got to learn sometime, right?



I love the Beck version of this song, but this one was so cheesy, I had to share.

HOW DID YOU LEARN GRAMMAR?

or

HOW DID YOU WASTE A SEMESTER?

or

WHAT ARE YOU LEARNING?